"President Bob, I know a Warhead Shard when I see one. The Trattorians definitely had one."

Bob stroked his goatee thoughtfully. An unformed shard would make an easy target for his vengeful crusade. "I checked out the other thing - the Trattorian situation. They really did fold up, left the whole damn AN to crumble like old bricks in an earthquake. Add these greenskins onto that... it's every man for himself out here now. I'd tell you all to come home, but it's no better here. The angel attacks are getting worse daily."

Sam sat on the other end of the tele-video line, surrounded by the crew of the Pericles. Well, besides the Goose twins, bickering in the cockpit. John Carter, the handsome leader of the crew, leaned over Sam, one hand holding him up on the bulkhead. Beck Driscoll, the ship's mechanic, sat on a console at the far end of the room, arms crossed and his eyes hooded over by his ushanka. Dr. Moses Schlesinger, the crew's patron and mentor, stood on Sam's other side, hands behind his back.

"President Bob, what about the transmission the Pericles picked up?" Dr. Schlesinger asked, in his soft, lecturer's voice.

"I tried to check that too, but the transmission got cut off soon after you told us about it. If President Austin really left a message deep in the Trattorian underground, someone decided they didn't like it getting out. But look - this is what I'm thinking. If Austin's Box is real, then it probably has antimortallium in it."

"I came to the same conclusion."

"Right, so if I want to kill Warhead, I'm going to need to get it before those labcoats do. Carter, can you meet me on New York?"

"Roger that, Mr. President. I'll have Goose lay in the course now." Carter pushed off the bulkhead and made his way up to the cockpit.

"President Bob, I'll need to be dropped off along the way, right?" Sam asked. "My deliveries are done for now."

"I can't afford to lose my best man from the crew. Think of it this way - I'm hiring you to pick up the Box and deliver it to me."

Sam sighed. How could he refuse a delivery?

"Glad to see you're on board. Alright, boys, I'll see you in New York in the spring. Ha! It's finally time to stick it to that damned Warhead."

* * *

"WHERE'S MY REPORT?!"

Sigma Shard's voice boomed through the halls of the Trattorian skyscraper and he smiled. The day had finally come where he stood triumphant over the Trattorians, ruling from their crown jewel, Conselia City. True, it had been their society's collapse that had let him do it, but who looked a gift horse in the mouth like that?

A Terrorkhan captain materialized behind him, standing at attention with a neat click of his heels. "Sir!"

Sigma Shard nearly jumped out of his skin, but quickly recovered composure and saluted the captain. "Alright, give it to me."

"Sir, the Sex Education continues apace. The Trattorians are eager to try various forms of debauchery. They say they have been bored out of their skulls."

"Good, good, I always knew it would be easy to reeducate these milquetoasts."

"We have discovered that most of them are sterile, just like the Nyphilians. Mom production will be low."

Sigma Shard waved his hand dismissively. "There are other moms out there. What about the Brootalz?"

"We are holding them at every major front. New spider tanks have been deployed to the front lines and our Terrorkhan Dreadknights have proven to be worthy opponents for their warbosses. Smaller legions have been joining our ranks daily, pushed back in other regions. Sir, what should we do with the lesser shards? Bring them here for absorption?"

"No, right now we need bodies. If they fall to the Brootalz, however..."

"...the transmission, then. We've managed to silence it. The two Trattorians who were on Orsa Maxii are dead as well. The explosive planted on President Au... the Nyphilian's body was a perfect trap. As far as we know, no others pursued the Box. He was as much a joke to the Trattorians as he was to us."

"Nevertheless. Have a team go to New York. It should be easy enough with the USA occupied with the mess in the AN. If anything exists, anything at all," Sigma Shard grit his teeth and hissed, "destroy it!"

Thank you for tuning in to NNC, the News Network Corporation. Tonight, on Pragueberg, the Emperor of Luchardsko announced that he would be taking over the leadership of the Third Alliance. For his first official act, he declared renewed war on both the Immortal Alliance and the Allied Nations, claiming that Luchardsko has weapons that will secure victory. Throughout the Brootalz Invasion, Luchardsko has been untouched by greenskins. The Emperor claims this is thanks to a powerful weapon, known as the Buttnomikon. He will extend that protection to the remaining states of the Third Alliance, and use the weapon to establish the TA as the ultimate force in Nehellenium. In addition, he claims the Luchardskoan army has located Austin's Box. Since Trattoria was canceled, rumors of this box have been floating in the 'net and many treasure hunters have tried and failed to find it on the planet of New York.

Now, we turn to our foreign correspondent, who has been following the diplomatic expeditions into the Ninja_verse.

* * *

Carlson coughed. It made his whole body hurt. His ears rang and his vision was blurred, but he was slowly regaining a sense of his body. Two arms, two legs, both still attached to his body. Rubble surrounded him but nothing heavy pinned him down. Gingerly, he brought himself to his feet. The shuttle had exploded into a million pieces, scattered across the barren plain. Carlson's lungs burned from the toxic air on Orsa Maxii but he found a rebreather nearby. It was cracked, but it made breathing easier. Off in the distance, the last of his drones were coming to life, running through self-repair protocols. Carlson ignored them, searching the rubble for Takuya.

As he began to lift a large hull panel, he heard a moan from behind him. Takuya lay pinned under the remains of the pilot's console, impaled by a random bracing bar. Carlson rushed to him, grabbed his hand.

"Carlson," Takuya said weakly.

"Takuya, I'm so sorry. I should have seen the trap. You're going to die because of me."

"Not die. Death is only a beginning. I've seen," he coughed, "seen the answer. Find me on New York. That's where the Box is."

Carlson gripped Takuya's hand with both of his. "What do you mean? How will I find you on New York? How did you see this?" But Takuya's eyes had gone glassy and his breathing had stopped. The hand went cold in Carlson's.

Carlson wept until a drone tapped his shoulder, waiting for instruction. "Get me to New York," Carlson hissed.

A cold wind blows over New York City. Carlson stands in the abandoned city, accompanied by the last of his drones. The drones stand still as he looks around slowly, a scanner quietly beeping in his hands. He adjusts the settings, takes a few steps forward, scans the skyline again. "Where is that damn box," he whispers to himself.

"Find me on New York," Takuya had said in his death delirium. That boy's body lay buried on Orsa Maxii, leaving Carlson to complete the quest on his own.

The scanner stops beeping and looks up at Carlson. "I don't smell any antimortallium," it says. Carlson ignores the Warhead shard, simply adjusting the knobs and walking forward again. "I do smell more of those greenskins, though."

"What did you say?"

Warhead's reply is cut short by the sudden cacophony of Brootalz appearing in the upper floors of buildings, chucking grenades, launching rockets, and shooting wildly at the Trattorians. Carlson ducks behind his drones as they lay down cover fire with clinical precision. The drones form a circle around him and begin retreating down an alleyway. Brootalz fall all around them, their caustic lime green blood pooling and bubbling on the ground. A lucky shot hits Carlson on the shoulder, and as he grabs the wound reflexively, he drops the Antimortallium Detector.

"Great job, ya numbnut!" Warhead shouts as he bounces away and lands in a puddle of Brootal blood. "Oh fuck, it burns! I'm melting, I'm melting! Oh, what a world!"

For a moment, Carlson considers rescuing the detector, but the drones push him well out of reach. The detector begins to glow green as it absorbs more of the Brootal blood. No time to find out what happens when you put together Immortals and Brootalz.

Jets shoot across the sky, too fast for Carlson to see their colors. They drop bombs on the Brootalz and streak away. The Brootalz stop shooting at the Trattorians to chase this new threat, and the drones lead Carlson into a safe corner.

Carlson breathes heavily. No Antimortallium Detector to help him now, only five drones left to protect him, and now he was right in the middle of a war zone. And Takuya... if only Takuya was still here! "Find me on New York - yeah, thanks a lot!" he groans. "I hope you're happy, because now we're both going to die for nothing. We're going to die as nobodies."

"Dr. Carlson, I have detected a new Trattorian signal," one of the drones suddenly says. "It matches the identification signal of Takuya."

Carlson looks at the drone incredulously. "Lead me there."

The Trattorians creep through the city, explosions booming all around them. The drones stop at a subway entrance. "The signal comes from in there."

Carlson walks down the steps into the darkness. He pulls out a flashlight and turns it on. It flashes once and burns out. Carlson angrily chucks it at the floor and begins moving forward, feeling the way with his hands. The drones follow behind him, spreading out to cover the hidden passages he can't see. The tunnels lead deeper into the earth, and soon all Carlson can hear is the sound of his own breath. Too deep to hear the explosions above, too far from his drones for comfort. His footsteps echo as he enters a large chamber.

A light comes on, illuminating a tablet on a podium. Carlson walks warily toward the center of the room.

"All my life, I have searched for a way to bring peace to our galaxy. The Immortal War has ravaged our home for far too long. Antimortallium was the answer I promised, but I have set so much more into motion. I laid the foundation for the Allied Nations, for the rise of Trattoria. But in my journeys, I learned a deep secret, one that cost me my sanity. It is here, kept safe to save you in the time of Ragnablok."

"It's antimortallium," Carlson whispers to himself. "At last!"

"It is more than antimortallium," the hologram says. "It is the true charter of the Allied Nations, and on it is a secret that shall end war as we know it!"

Carlson knows the articles of the Charter of the Allied Nations by heart. There are no secrets on it, just diplomatic fluff. But he reads it anyway.

"What is this?" he asks in sudden shock.

"The Nations recognize the futility of war due to the inherent immortality of all beings," the hologram says. "The secret of antimortallium is that no one is truly mortal. No one really dies." The hologram gestures to one side of the chamber, and a light turns on over a doorway. Carlson staggers back at the sight.

"Takuya! How?"

"Hello, Dr. Carlson. Sorry for the theatrics, but President Austin insisted."

The hologram steps off the projector. "It's really not worth it if you don't do the theatrics," Austin says. "I see you're struggling to understand. I will explain. As I searched for antimortallium, I discovered secrets that challenged our understanding of the universe. You see, our lives are not defined by birth and death. Most people believe they live one life, and must make the most of it. The Immortals believe they can live forever. But the truth is that we exist in a space-fabric that I call the Plot. It is the Plot that gives us the appearance of life and death, that decides where and when we exist. It flows through us, and though it is out of our control, someone who lives an ossum life is likely to be brought back by the Plot. A sort of Plot Armour, if you will. Immortals believe they are special in their ability to keep coming back, but I discovered that all people come back eventually. And so, there is no point in war because no one can really die."

"Why hide this? Why is this being revealed only now?"

"When I cast this discovery into stone, something strange happened. The power of this secret consumed me, making me into the bumbling fool you know from history. In my insanity, I learned of a time of Ragnablok, when the universe would be threatened by total destruction, and four Ragnabooks would be revealed that would decide our fate. This is one of them, the Ragnabook of Peace."

"We're under attack, Dr. Carlson. Immortals, Brootalz, the TLA, and Luchardsko are converging on our location."

"They want the charter!" Austin says. "If we want to protect it, we have to fight our way out!"

"This is all we have left to fight with," Carlson protests, counting the five remaining drones.

"I have another secret," Austin says with a smile. "I also discovered antimortallium. This charter is made entirely out of it. We'll find it quite simple to fight our way past the Immortal forces. Arm yourselves, the time set by the Plot has come."

The ceiling opens up, revealing a deep shaft. The floor rumbles and begins to rise. Carlson unholsters his pistol and cocks it nervously. Maybe death isn't real, but it still feels like he's about to fight the fight of his life.